Prayer in the Night
by Taxi 'Cab' Beau
Summary: The adventures of two assassins and they're dramatic lives. Meet Deadria and Moth, the unlikeliest pair of murderers you'll ever see ! Also known as TAOMAD. Summary sucks, please read !
1. Prologue: Angels in the Dark

Prologue: Angels in the Dark

The scene is, predictably, a night time one. The night in particular was a cold one, with snow falling even in the southern areas of the province. The roads are empty; all travellers were in the warmth of an inn or a tent, laughing and drinking, or else sleeping if they were light-hearted. However, two figures, at different sides of the province, give the whether no heed as they continue on their paths, destinations burned in the front of their minds.

In Bruma, the cold was even fiercer than the rest of Cyrodil. The loud drunken songs of the Nords could be heard even from outside the city walls. The guards rub their eyes' sleepily and grumble about the cold, wishing very much they could take part in the intoxicated cheerfulness, rather than having to escort the dizzy back to their warm cabins. So when a sleek white horse clopped up to the stables, blending in almost perfectly into the snowy backdrop, the guards were surprised, to say the least, and almost peed their pants in shock at the most. The rider, a slender figure wearing a black cloak smiled as they lead their steed into the paddock and then slipped out, closing the gate behind them. The guards, the original shock wearing off, we're weary of this – random – traveller. At the gates, a pale hand crept out from the cloak and threw back the hood, to reveal a beautifully pale girl underneath, with a radiant smile.

"Excuse me for the troubles, sir Guards. I've come to pick something up for my guild, do you think you might open the gates for me?" Soft spoken and with a slight stutter, the girl was as sweet and innocent as anything. She had a small elfin accent, and her pointed ears gave away her elfin origin. Yes, the guard on duty mused, she must be a mage. He smiled at her and opened the gates.

Not an hour later the girl was back, with a wrapped package in her hands and a small smile on her face.

"Thank you, sir guard. Pardon me again for the trouble." Though her voice was no different, the guard couldn't help but notice that her eyes weren't soft and caring as before. Now they were gleeful, and somewhat manic. But he put it aside, mages are funny folk anyways. So he let her out and she disappeared into the night.

On the proper other side of the territory, in Anvil, sailors cursed the cold whether as they worked on their ships, unpacking crates even at this late hour. Not even across the street were the normal pub noises, a brawl breaking out over a mention of someone's mother. One of the sailors, a Redguard, stopped a moment in his work to wipe his forehead, sweating despite the slushy flakes falling from the heavens. As he looked at the strange snowy skies, he felt a vibration near his ear. He swiped at it, cursing whatever insect was about to feed on his flesh. The strange humming didn't stop, and he felt a little pinch that was as painful as anything, a jolt going through his whole body.

"Stupid big person" a sweet voice breathed in his ear. He glanced over his shoulder. Nothing.

"Oi, Geoffry, thinking yer better than 'us? Get yer ass back to work!" one of his fellow sailors growled. Geoffry shook his head, decided to lay off the ale, and returned to the invigorating labour.

Elsewhere in the city, a small child was tucked into her bed, sleeping soundly. A small tap at her window woke her and caught her attention. Her eyes widened and she made a move to call for her mother, but the small figure outside put a finger to its lips and shushed her. Eyes widening in excitement, the little girl ran to her window and threw it open. Smiling, the little thing flew inside and watched as the child struggled to close the heavy window. Once she was done, panting, the girl turned to the figure with sparkling eyes as wide as plates, gently touching the pink wings as the silhouette smiled sweetly and her hands started glowing. The girl 'wowed', and didn't notice the little thing touch her temples. Smile glazed in place, the child fell to the floor, out like a light.

The moon was getting lower in the sky, which was starting to clear up. The clouds parted, revealing a shining full moon which shone bright as a torch, illuminating two places in particular. One, in the north, and one again in the south. Two different campsites, two different areas, to different people. A youngish looking elf was kneeling before the fire of her shabby camp, while on the other side of the map a tiny lass the size of a teaspoon sits before a minute figurine, the size of a statue to her. Both of the maidens were in a prayer position, hands clasped tightly, with their faces pointed to the moon. Two faces, with bright eyes and angular ears, speak to the moon, and look down at their blood-stained hands. They turn up the the moon again, and smile.

The next day was sunny in contrast, and it was warm even as the sun was rising. All cities were having a good morning, and those who woke early walked with a spring in their steps. The only two cities who were an exception to this were Bruma and Anvil, which greeted their waking inhabitants with a child screaming shrilly.

**A.N/** Hmm, suspense ! Well, what do you think ?

Oblivion and all the cities and NPCs in it are majorly out of my league. I DON'T OWN IT ! I only own this plotline.

Please Rate and Review ! Once I get 1 review I will post chapter one.


	2. First Impressions

Chapter 1: First Impressions

Talon was a fairy guard. Much like the imperial legion, he and his brothers travel the province, searching for fellow Sidhe in need. He was around County Anvil when the distinct smell of a fairy trail hit him. Pausing in his flight, he sniffed the air sharply. Cinnamon, and a little pepper that made him sneeze. He racked his brains of fairy knowledge for someone with a similar wing dust, and the thought of Ceya'Tar village came to his mind. So he knew the place, but not the person. He fluttered his blue wings for a moment, deep in thought, and then swept into a deep dive. This fairy was far from their village, and there was no doubt about the coppery smell that was coupled with the spices: this fairy was covered in blood.

She was by a small statue, one of the several religious areas of the province. At first Talon thought that she was bound, tied up, before it struck him that this was her hair. Thin pink braids, long as the maiden was tall were everywhere, dishevelled as anything and the same shade as her wings. Her skin was chocolate brown, and she was moving in her sleep. Talon tried to gently shake her, and she became aggressive, thrashing about, fists connecting with his face. Talon lost his temper and slapped the girl, "Wake up woman!"

She opened her eyes at that, her irises the same bright pink as her hair. They were young, he could tell that. She narrowed her little eyes and stood, glaring at him. She was at least a head smaller than he was, and she was as skinny as a twig. She was wearing simple enough clothing; a quilted doublet, knee-length breeches and worn out leather boots. A belt cinched around her waist held so many pouches Talon couldn't even imagine what she had in there. She scowled at him.

"Well know that you've gone and woken me up, I suppose I'll have to get back on the road now."

Her teeth were a dazzling white in contrast to her darker skin, and he noticed – with a gulp – that her teeth were pointed and seemed sharp. That was one creature he did not want munching on his arm.

"Excuse me, Miss…? My name is Talon, of the Sidhe Guard. I noticed you were far from your village…" he trailed off pathetically, not quite knowing what to say (something totally unheard of for Talon).

"And? Is a fairy not allowed to travel? Damned guards."

Talon was… let's say, surprised. He hadn't expected this little girl to swear.

"Um, lass, what's your name? And how old are you?"

"Dumb snoop," she scowled again. "My name's Moth Tellerae, of Ceya'Tar Village, in the east. And if you really must know, I'm 170. Happy now?" She started rummaging through the bag hooked on her belt until she found a small mirror and started doing her hair up in a childish yet elaborate style; with several braids forming loops on either side of her head. Then she stopped and looked at him again.

"Who the hell did you say you were?"

"My name, is, uh, Talon and I'm a fairy guard, I'm 250…"

"And why did you say you were here?"

"Well, I recognized your scent, and I could smell blood…"

She glanced down at her red stained hands.

"Nothing, I killed a wolf earlier." She shivered and scowled at him again.

"Well, I suppose you're returning to your village then?"

"Yeah." She gave him a dirty look and took to the skies.

Tales of fairies and myths tell of a tower called Frostcrag Spire, the mysterious wizard's tower, home to generation after generation of powerful magicians. Handed down in wills, fought for in battles, the tower is said to be in between the deadric areas of worship of Namira and Azura. And, not surprisingly, someone built a tower just as magical as the old wives' tale. Handed down in a similar way, eventually a beaten path lead from the city to the fortress. And it was down this very path that a snow-white mare galloped, fast as anything.

The tower was now in possession of the granddaughter to a distinguished family, having inherited it from her… rather, eccentric grandfather, a funny little man who was so in to the deep magicks he studied that half the time no one knew what he was talking about.

The girl in question, a certain Lady who nobody ever heard of, rarely used it. The place was just a big castle collecting dust. Or so the crowds assumed.

The white mare cantered into the stables, and the rider dismounted, shivering slightly. Giving her horse a final, sweet pat, she trekked up the stairs into the tower. Pulling her cloak off and hanging it up, we get the first full view of our second protagonist. Her eyes burned like brilliant emerald flames, a burst of color in her otherwise white face. Her hair, long and thick, is black as night, hanging loosely around her face, a few strands sticking out randomly. This annoys her quite a bit, and she lifts her hands to brush them down. Her hands are as powdery-white as her face, long and elegant, but scarred with the cracked remains of dried blood. She retires to wash, and returns wearing a black and burgundy gown, with similar slippers, her hair swept up to the top of her head to dry. Then she set about to grimmer matters, something not at all expected of a lady such as this elfin doll.

The package that she had roughly dropped on the floor, she now picks up. Inside is a plain, waterproof box. She prepares a creamy white canvas, and an array of paintbrushes. She opens the box, and using the blood of her latest victim, the elfin maiden paints her masterpiece.

**A.N/** I had Deadria have some macabre tendencies there, but needed something shocking for her to do! :D

The elder scrolls are WAY OUT OF MY LEAGUE! I don't own any of the places or NPCS mentioned in game. I only own this plotline and my characters.

Special thanks to CharliSempai for reviewing !


	3. Recollections

Chapter 2: Recollections

Lucien Lachance smiled in the night. Finally, a contract. Being Speaker is dull in the way that your duties almost always equate to recruiting. Now he was given not one, but two victims? He grinned a second time. This was his sphere, his speciality. Not even needing a cloaking spell, he crept forwards towards the tiny village. He had been surprised when the Listener had told him that fairies, the legendary Sidhe existed. The ancestors of all modern elves, he said. Proud as anything, arrogant as Altmer, if not more. And now, he was to kill two of their numbers.

The two he needed to strike down were called Beatrix and Darius Tellerae. A young married couple, in fairy years, with a 5-year-old daughter. Well, a 50-year-old, but he had been informed that they aged much slower than humans. Lucky basterds, he thought. One of the little fairy friends wanted the Chiefs of the fairy guards dead. He had thought that something at least would be dramatic. Instead, his first contract in ten months is the result of petty jealousy. But, a kill is still a kill.

The fairy village – oh how he hated the word fairy – was just outside Cheydinhal, less than a mile away. It lit up in the dark, some festival or another. The architecture stunned him. It was a mini Cheydinhal, with the same purple and white design, same house shapes. There was however no castle, and no river with bridges, but it was striking all the same. He spotted a similarity in something – a variety of the little people with snow white hair. Now that he realized it, all of them had bizarrely colored hair. But there – he heard the name Darius. He strained his well-trained ears to find the voice. There. Lachance wrinkled his nose and bit back the urge to sneeze. The stupid Sidhe's wings were letting off some kind of dust that smelled funny. But he found at least one of his victims, so things were not all bad. Deciding to get a better look, he sheaths his dagger and climbs a nearby tree, listening to the merry making of those below.

Darius Tellerae was having a great time. He ran a chocolate brown hand through his white hair and sighed. He glanced at the surrounding forest. Nothing quite out of place… besides a shivering feeling that he was being watched. He shrugged it off and went to find his daughter and wife.

Beatrix was sitting on a chequered blanket with Moth and Trixie. Moth and her cousin had gotten a hold of a pair of wooden daggers and were whacking each other with them, with little cries and whooping when they got in a hit. Beatrix was laughing at the pair and encouraging them. That's just like her, Darius thought wryly, to spur them on rather than tell them to stop. He jumped into the air and quickly buzzed his way over to sit with his family. Beatrix put her arm over his shoulder and sighed.

"Mama?" She looked down to see their pink-haired daughter pulling on her sleeve.

"Yes darling?"

"Why do Mama and Papa have white hair, but I have pink hair?"

"Well sweetie, Mama and Papa are in the Fairy Guard. When you join, you have to dye your hair white so that people can recognize you."

"Die? You have to kill your hair?" Tears welled up in the little girl's eyes. "Why would you kill them though?"

"Not die, dye. Its spelled different, you dummy." Her cousin Trixie corrected.

"Hey! I am not a dummy!" and they launched into yet another round of melee as they wrestled playfully, rolling each other in the mud.

The parents laughed.

"Sometimes I feel like I've been given a nephew and a son, rather than a niece and a daughter." Darius laughed. Then he paused… Something wasn't quite right…. He felt an ominous presence, one that meant to harm him and his family. He stood to do another round.

When he fell, it wasn't him that hit the ground, but rather his corpse.

A chain of events happened all at the same time. His wife Beatrix sprung up, ready to battle, but was felled by a similar blow of magic. The fairies stopped their dancing and ran for their houses, screaming. The guard jumped up, helping those who were unwell or drunk get home safe. Trixie burst into tears and started shaking the bodies. And Moth… changed.

Gone was the cute fairy girl who had played with her cousins and cried over her mother's hair seconds ago. Her pink iris were no longer cute and welcoming, they burned with a fire that was as fearsome as it was hard and cruel. Moth stood and bent over to pick up her parent's daggers as the wind crumbled their dead wings into nothingness.

"Here," she said, tossing her father's ebony dagger to Trixie. "This is yours now."

She collected the elfin dagger that always hung at her mother's belt and unsheathed it.

"The humans did this… I can tell. And I swear that I'm going to hunt down the one that did this, and I'm going to make his life hell."

Lucien didn't stay to see the chaos that ensued. He had completed the contract, and that was all he really cared about. He was half-way to Cheydinhal when his nose picked up on a lingering scent of cinnamon and pepper. He sneezed. Scowling, Lachance turned around to stab whatever it was that had made him reveal his presence in such an embarrassing way, he saw not some stupid animal or a farmer working late, but a tiny fairy lass, thin as a weed and tiny height. But what struck him were her eyes. They burned like a pink flame, with maniacal glints in her eyes as she stabbed an elfin dagger into his arm.

"You're the one that did this! You're the one that killed Mama and Papa!"

A jolt travelled his body as the shock enchantment of the tiny blade took effect. He plucked the girl from the air and took her cranium between his forefinger and thumb.

"Listen here, lass, you are going to forget that, and you will now." He growled, a command spell amplifying his words. She slowly closed her eyes.

He dropped her. As he turned back towards the darkness, he heard a faint shattering sound, and the screaming chaos of the village. He smiled a truly frightening smirk, and moved on.

**A.N/** o.O Creepy.

Poar Moth ! This is, of course, a flashback scene if you guys didn't get it already. But remember: The Elder Scrolls are waay out of my league ! I don't own them ! I only own my characters, my locations, and my plot.


	4. Memories

Chapter 3: Memories

"Haelia! Come!"

"Yes, mother." Her mother spoke harshly to her, as if she were not so much elf as animal. She climbed down from her chair and pattered down the stairs to greet her mother.

"Haelia! I told you to throw away those boots. And what are you thinking, dressing like that? Are you even wearing stockings? Go and change. NOW."

Haelia climbed up the stairs back to her room, cursing her mother, cursing her family, cursing the big mountain house they lived in. Her mother thought her a failure, just because she liked wearing boots and skirts that don't touch the ground, and because she refused to wear stockings and corsets and such. Isn't a mother supposed to love you whatever you do, she fumed as she scrubbed the residue dirt from her face. As she changed into the tedious gown her mother expected her to wear, she wished her Father was friendlier, and would help her in her fights against Mother.

Why was it that girls had to wear skirts, and men had to wear trousers? Why weren't women allowed to wear armour? Her mother and father wanted everything prim and proper, so they could show off to the guests and company that never came. They wanted her to look like a little porcelain doll so that they could show her off, and eventually marry her off to some rich under lord, or something. In the meantime, both her parents only paid heed to her so she could be scolded, or told off, or punished, and then they could complain to the rare company they got and such. Haelia sighed and wrapped her hair up in a coil and pulled the dreaded stockings and corsets from her closet. Grumbling to herself, she pulled a red gown out of her drawer and struggled with all the underskirts and such until she was presentable. Then, holding herself straight as she could and holding back a scowl, she daintily walked back downstairs to her vindictive mother.

"Haelia. You took too long. Why is it you're so useless?" Her mother didn't even pause to look up from her desk to face her daughter.

"Pardon me, Mother. It won't happen again, Mother." Always the same excuses.

"I'll expect your father shall hear about this. Now, tell me about your lessons girl."

"Well, Mother, they're going well. I'm studying Alyeid Language right now."

"Are you any good at it?"

"I try my best, mother."

"Well as far as I know, girl, your best isn't hard enough. You may go. NOW."

Sighing was Haelia's best sport. She retired to her chambers and tried to paint something decent. All of her works came out beautifully, but there was always something missing, something indecent about this. Something she couldn't ever place that was off with the colours. She tried to paint something while closing her eyes. The finished result was a wonderful landscape of colours she didn't even know existed. But still… no. It's wrong, she thought. She leaned her head against the window and sighed again, resigning to listening to the maids gossip in the next room over.

"You know, they say that when you murder someone, the Dark Brotherhood comes to you in your sleep."

"What? That's horrid! What do they do, kill you?"

"Not at all. That's how they get their new members, you numbskull."

"Now don't you go calling me a nimrod! I've heard, the assassins are a tight group, like one of those close-knit village families."

"Now where on earth did you hear that?"…

The conversation continued on, but Haelia wasn't listening anymore.

When her mother left for a company call, Haelia took her chance and stole a broom. With it, she locked herself in her bedroom and practised hitting things with it, until she was sure of how to use a heavy object. The mad images in her mind were spinning and growing like a spiderweb, impossible for a 14-year-old, but she couldn't clear her head. A manic obsession took over her, and she didn't want to fight it.

She collected all the silverware and such from her rooms and crept to the castle blacksmith. She ordered him, on behalf of her father she said, to make a weapon out of them. He doubted her, but when she returned the next day, he had smelted the goblets and such into a magnificent silver claymore, engraved with family runes. She took it, and trained with it again and again, failure after failure, after success. Finally, her parents returned. They wouldn't be seen alive again.

Haelia couldn't stop grinning. Finally, a world without men bossing her around, where she could do what she wanted. She gathered the will to Frostcrag Spire, her sword, and her horse, leaving all left behind. When she arrived, she tried to paint something, and the blood caught on her hand dropped onto the parchment. She smiled widely. She had found the answer to her dilemma, and knew that her future paintings would be the best she would ever do.


	5. Teammates

Chapter 4: Teammates

Moth was not in the least happy about having a travel partner. For Talon had considered it in his duties to escort her back to the villages, despite all the insults and names she had called him. He was stubborn, more so than she was. And it bothered Moth to know that. Everything he did bothered her, really. The way he made small-talk, made her wear his sweater when she shivered, asked why she was so far away, asked about her metallic arm, asked about her dagger. If it weren't illegal, she probably would have killed him already. Mind you, the temptation was big enough, and if he didn't shut up she thought she might kill him anyways.

Talon was, however, oblivious to the violent fantasies going through the girl's head. She piqued his interest in more ways than one. Her metallic left arm that she wouldn't talk about, her reason so far away, the strange and numerous things she had cinched around her waist. The way she spoke, even, when she harshly batted him away with her vulgar language was so out of place, that he couldn't help but think, _something went wrong with this one._ He had a feeling, deep in his gut, that told him that something had happened in Moth Tellerae's life that had made her such a mangled caricature. And he planned on finding it out. Ideas were spinning in his mind, ways to follow her, to question Grandmother Laloria about her past, her parents, find out where she lived… until he realized with horror what he was doing. He, Talon, one of the most prodigious members of the guard was planning on, when he looked at it, stalking and prying on this young girl! He blushed with shame and put all ideas of it out of his brain. When he looked up from his private soapbox, he realized that she was flying backwards, watching him with interest.

"You're red as a beetroot, boy. Naughty thoughts in your head?" she asked him with a smirk the size of a map on her face. "Who would have thought such a prestigious guard as yourself could have such fantasies? For shame, boy."

Turning even redder, he tried desperately, and in vain, for a comeback to this. But he noticed that in her horrid teasing, her face had loosened up, and her eyes weren't as guarded as before. She was still flying backwards, but she had relaxed, and held her head in her arms, looking up at the sun as she leisurely continued her path.

"Tell me about your dreams, boy."

He started at that. "What an odd question."

"You can often tell what a person is like when they're asleep. And you didn't answer me, boy."

"Stop calling me boy! I'm older than you!"

"You're avoiding my question."

"Well…" He scratched the back of his head in thought. His dreams were something he held personally, and he didn't really want to tell this girl. But her eyes were softer, and she wasn't as vicious as she was before. "Mostly I dream of the things I do every day, really. But I also dream of my parents a lot, and my older brother. They've… passed on."

"You and me are the same." He looked up to see she had straightened herself, and was looking at him through lifeless eyes. "My parents are gone, too. Humans killed them."

"Oh… how old were you?"

"50."

"Woah… I was 120 when mine died. And… what do you dream about?"

"Power. The power to be able to get rid of all the humans, and get us all out of hiding under cloaking spells and in ruins. Power to give my cousin Trixie her wings back, and to make Mama and Papa come back, and to be able to find the –" Talon winced as she swore vulgarly – "who killed them, and to kill him slowly, and make him feel so much pain that he'll be screaming for me to kill him, and then I'll cut his tongue out and watch the way he wriggles as he suffers."

He stared at her. Her eyes were burning pink fire, and her hands – organic and metallic – were clenched into tight fists. Her face had contorted to something diabolic, this creature was sadistic, and this creature would make whoever got in its' way suffer. She blinked, and became all cute and sweet, exactly as he had imagined her to be when he first saw her.

"But those are just dreams after all, and then I wake up fine!" She was so cute, that he almost forgot what they had been talking about. But when she opened her eyes, the maniacal glint had not completely vanished from them. Not long after, they reached Ceya'Tar and he was compelled to leave. She was sugary sweet when he left, all thanking him for bringing her back safe and whatnot. Somewhat dazed, he returned to Vilverin to give a status report and forgot to take back his sweater.

Moth's mind was no clearer than it was before. Right now, the only thing going around and around in there was a long stream of swear words in Alyeid language. That idiot was so annoying! He was going to ruin everything! Once he had left, she had gotten the heck out of there, wanting to return to Cheydinhal more than anything. She flew the short distance and buzzed over the wall to the abandoned house, where she flew down the chimney inside. Coughing up soot, she made her way down to the basement and through the hole in the wall to the tunnel towards the door.

She placed the palm of her metallic hand on the big door, and sighed. She was almost home, almost there. She prepared to say the password, when someone else dropped into the passage. Moth squealed and unsheathed her dagger, ready to fight, until she realized that the newcomer was wearing shrouded armor and lowered her weapon.

"Who the heck are you?"

"W-Well, my name is Deadria." She stuttered. Moth studied her. She was an elf, and not a human, therefore they were not enemies yet. She had emerald eyes, long black hair, and pale skin. She was tall, and thin. Lean, muscled in a skinny way. And she was wearing Shrouded Armor.

"You trying to get in here?"

"Well, um… yes."

Moth shrugged and turned back to the door. "Sanguine, my brother."

The door screeched open. Moth flew through, and turned around to see this Deadria person. She followed, and a look of home, safety, and comfort graced her angular features. That was all Moth needed, this girl was obviously one of them.

"Um, Miss? It's not quite fair, because you know my name and I don't know yours." This outburst was quite unexpected, and she went red. "I'm sorry! Um –"

"My name is Moth Tellerae," she said sweetly. "I'm a fairy. You're pretty, Lady. Are you strong?"

"Pardon? Um, thank you, Miss Tellerae. And… well I like to think I am quite strong…"

"I hope you're strong. You have a powerful name. But it's not your real name."

Deadria said nothing.

"Nobody, human or elf would name their daughter after the deadra. So what was your real name, Lady?"

"M-my old name was Haelia Varlais. However, I dropped that name when I joined the brotherhood."

"I never see you around. But it's very nice to meet you!" She flew over and took two of Deadria's fingers in her hand and shook them, before she cocked her head and turned around.

"Vicenteeeee!" She flew towards him and slammed into his shoulder. "Hello, Vicenteee."

The vampire laughed. "Hello, little sister. Things going well?"

"Yes! Very well, I killed the little girl, and I met a new sister!" She smiled adorably, showing her pointed incisors.

"That's excellent, then. I'm sure Antoinetta has something for you, but first I suggest you take a bath." He wrinkled his nose. "Even underneath that lovely spice smell, you reek."

The vampire turned to Deadria as the little fairy sat on his shoulder, singing something in gibberish.

"And you, sister? How went your mission?"

"Well, brother, all went well. I killed the target, and drained it of blood as you asked."

"Excellent…" he chuckled darkly. "Did you bring some back for me?"

"Of course. There isn't much of it, because I used most of it on a painting, but I do think of my brother every now and then." She fished a small bottle from the pocket of her armour. "Now, I think I'll go rest. Goodbye, brother."

As Deadria left the room, she smelled a familiar blend of spices and turned around to see the little fairy following her. Deadria wasn't quite sure what to make of this creature. Her original instinct was to grab her and examine her, like a little doll. But that would be horribly rude, not to mention awkward, so she didn't. She retired to the sleeping area, and noticed on the table between her bed and Antoinetta's, there was a little stack of cloths, with a few more towards the top. She wondered what it was, when Miss Tellerae landed on the table and removed her belt, dumping it on the makeshift bed. Then, with a wave, she left the room.

"She's a curious one, isn't she? Welcome back, sister."

"Thank you, Ocheeva." Deadria smiled. "I've never seen her before, is she new?"

"Hardly, she's been here as long as I have. Did you know she's 170?"

"Wha- Pardon me?" Not possible, she wasn't even a vampire…

"She says that one Sidhe year equates to 10 years for us."

"So that would make her 17…"

"Yes. I'm going to go train, I suggest you go wash. You're all sweaty."

Deadria decided the best thing to do would be to go and take a bath, and then sleep a little, before accepting another contract. She put down her bags and went to the bathing room to wash up. Miss Tellerae, it seemed, had the same ideas, and was sitting in a teacup singing as she washed. Deadria averted her eyes and tried not to laugh at the odd sight. The fairy maiden was singing some gibberish again. She looked up and saw Deadria.

"Hello again! Don't worry, you can wash. I won't peek if it bothers you. Teehees. Lalala, skyracer high in the skyyy…"

Deadria giggled at this and proceeded to wash, albeit very quickly. When she was done, Moth had just undid her hair, which fell almost to the floor.

"Hey, Lady, can you cut my hair for me?"

"What?"

"It's too long."

"Oh… okay…" Nervously, Deadria took a dagger from her pile of things and held the Rapunzel-like locks between two fingers. Quickly, she chopped the long tresses off, leaving Moth with a rather adorable pixie cut.

"Thanks, Lady! It's really pretty!" She smiled at Deadria widely and started getting dressed while the elf averted again her eyes.

Together the duo left the bathing house, with the fairy girl perched quite comically on Deadria's head. As they passed through the main hall, Vicente called them over.

"Hello, Vicente!"

"Hello… Now then, sisters, let us pass onto a more serious matter. I have a contract for you two."

"Um…" Deadria cleared her throat. "You mean, 'contracts', right brother?"

"No, 'contract'. The Black Hand has informed me, that for now on, you two are to be an assassinating duo. So, let us discuss the contract shall we?"


	6. Initiation

Chapter 5: Initiation

Footsteps sounded throughout the forest. The young girl runs, panting, her red tunic ripped and slashed. Leaves and branches scratch her face, and the slippery stones of the riverbed taunt her as she scrambles down the water source's path. As she runs, her crimson-red hair swings in front of her face, blinding her. There's blood seeping down her face and arms, and her feet are scraped raw, but that isn't going to stop her. Her destination is further on still, and she knows that she needs to get there, no matter what. The little creature knows that she won't be able to, but she tries anyways. She leaps into the air, hoping against reason. The red wings on her back, too small to carry her weight, are to no use: she crashes down into the stone, pebbles gouging into her skin. The fairy curses her optimism and gets up, resuming her path. Her limbs are burning, but she knows that if she stops, it's all over. So she runs onwards.

. . .

"Partners?" Fairy and Elf alike shriek in surprise, Deadria actually falling back and knocking over Ocheeva's prized vase. Antoinetta-Marie sprung forward to catch it inches before it crashed into a million pieces, and a collective sigh went across the room. Tenants or no tenants, death would come across he or she who broke Ocheeva's vase.

"Vicente, you can't be serious!" Deadria said, her voice several octaves higher in shock.

"But Big Brother! How am I supposed to be sneaky if I'm lugging a human along with me?" Moth whined. "Elf," she corrected, "But it's the same thing!"

Vicente Valtieri shook his head and sighed. "Both of you are missing crucial elements to becoming an exemplary killer. The Black Hand has plans for the two of you, but until we smooth the rough edges, you aren't going anywhere. Speaker Lachance especially asked that you two form an assassination duo. And you know the consequences of defying an order…" he finished menacingly. Deadria gulped. Moth scoffed.

"On a brighter note," the vampire continued, "Deadria has just moved up one rank. Which means she can now complete the initiation."

A collective smirk and laugh went around the Sanctuary common room.

"Wh..What do you mean?" the elf asked, red at being laughed at.

"Well, it's a custom that, when a member moves up for the first time, he or she…" He leaned over and whispered the rest in her ear. Her pale hand whipped like white lightning and slapped the vampire across the face. Hard.

"What in the name of the Void is wrong with you people? You want me to sleep with someone, and someone picked at random at that?" Her face was furiously red and her stammer vanished as that maniacal glint made its entrance.

"In theory, yes."

"Well what about her then?" the elven assassin jerked her thumb towards the bored-looking fairy.

"Well… she is a unique case."

At this, Moth jerked up.

"Wait… so one of these guys has to do the nasty with my Lady?"

"Yes, Moth" exasperation dotted the vampire's voice.

"No way in hell is that happening." Moth's voice was firm.

"But sister,"

"I don't want to hear it! Anybody who touches my Lady has to deal with me."

Laughter came from all sides of the room. Moth was not at all amused with that.

"THAT'S IT! THE TENANTS BE DAMNED, ANYBODY WHO DARES SO MUCH AS LAY FINGER ON MY LADY WILL BE KILLED IN A WAY SO IRONIC, THAT WHEN YOU REACH THE VOID SITHIS WILL LAUGH IN YOUR FACES! AM I CLEAR?" Magic amplified the Sidhe's voice, and her pink eyes were so dark that they almost looked red. The aura around her was murderous, and none of them doubted that she would do it.

"She's your lady then, is she? Are you a married couple?"

Moth turned to face the newcomer, and her evil glare disappeared in an instant as she launched herself towards the dark man.

"Lula!"

. . .

The red-haired-one continues on her path. The setting is slightly different: she has excited the riverbed and is running across a thorny forest, the underbrush threatening to decapitate her if she isn't careful. Her feet barely brushing the ground, her sprint is nonetheless slower, and its' obvious that she is exhausted. But she continues onwards relentlessly, reaching up every so often to brush her hair back. _If I get out of this alive,_ she thought, _I'm going to change hairstyles. This is too impractical._ Then she reminds herself that she swore off optimism, and continues to run. _Get out alive, don't get distracted, and don't hope for anything until you're on the other side _she repeats again and again in her head. She wonders if there were any hope her legs and feet would look the same again. Her tiny wings are ripped and torn from the thorns and branches, but she wouldn't have been able to fly with them anyways. She was born a flutterer, the lowest common denominator of the Sidhe. The few like her, born with wings to small to fly with, were then committed to apprenticing at the temple of Luxia, the fairy goddess. When they came of age, they passed the initiation to become a priest or a priestess of the goddess, or else they died. That was the life of the flutterers. Most of them didn't pass the initiation, and died on the way to their destination. The list of flutterer deaths was high, with a current number of initiation deaths at 177.

Trixie wondered if she wasn't going to bring the death toll to 178.

**A.N/** It's been aaages since I put in a disclaimer.

I don't own the Elder Scrolls, any of the NPCs. I only own the plot, my OCs, and a copy of the game.

Thanks to the awesome CharliSempai who lets me use Deadria in this story, and for being the only reviewer to this story. (On that note, a few more reviews would be nice), and to AkaneEnaka for letting me use her 'initiation' to the dark brotherhood. However, since I made the Luxia thing off the top of my head that one was me ^^; Please check these two people out, they're really nice. :)


	7. Halfway Point

Chapter 6: Half-Way Point

Trixie stopped running to breath. She checked the sky. It was still the green-pink light of pre-dawn. She was good. For now, she could take a few minutes rest. She stopped to take a drink of water and wash some of the dried blood from her body. The flutterer had arrived at her destination: 10 miles from Admia village in the Malatar – high wood – region, what the humans liked to call Lake Rumare. The Sidhe knew it under the name of Baune Relle – mighty water. Here was what Trixie had been looking for this whole time, the reason she couldn't stop running. She took the time to fasten her overly long bangs away- it was crude, but she somewhat pulled it in a little ponytail off to the side. She took a deep breath and held her arms high over her head.

She dove. The movement was fast and graceful, and despite her weighing less then a feather she was propelled quite down. Her powerful arms and legs kicked, and her small wings were somewhat moving her forward but not quite. She let out a stream of bubbles and cast a water-breathing spell. That would giver her about 10, 15 minutes of air. She knew that Baune Relle was home to large, monstrous, ugly, carnivorous fish. Better not to take any chances. She opened the doors in her mind that held back her wide array of magicka and let forth a white shield around her, encasing the girl's small body. She held her hands in front of her, nurturing the ball of electricity that was growing there, then opened her arms wide and watched as the discharge travelled through the water. Confident that she could do what she needed to do in peace, she re-cast her air spell and dove further into the depths.

The deeper she went, the harder it was to move, and the colder the water was. Trixie tried to shrug it off as she worked her muscles, but she dreaded pulling a muscle in this pressurized glacier. Having long ago resorted to using a night-eye spell, she realized that she was nearing the bottom of the lake. Unable to hide a grin, she propelled herself forwards to the murky floor. It was grimy, and the strange sand-and-mud mixture was heavy and sticky, like treacle but more goopy. The grin slid off her face as instead she grimaced, and got to work. The flutterer started shifting through the muck, peering at the pebbles she came across.

She didn't know how long she searched. The redhead would make big piles of goop she dug up, and then have to shift the piles over so she could search under them. The process was boring, and thoroughly disgusting. Never again would Trixie wrinkle her nose passing the latrines. After what seemed like endless digging, her hands closed around a small cold stone. She brought it close to her face and peered at it. Yes, that was it. Now all she needed was to find more of it's kind, and then she could head back to Adonai City and the temple there, where she could finally complete this damned initiation. Considering she got there alive. She dug deeper, and then widened the range to a wider scale, until she had five of the stones. Each was the size of her head, and seemed quite light. She ripped the bottom of her tunic off to make a crude bundle, and not wanting to wait, she cast a fortify speed spell and shot out of the water like a bat out of hell.

. . .

Talon looked up from his desk in the Guard Tower at Vilverin. He looked down at the notepad he was drawing on, and saw that he had once again unconsciously drawn the mystery girl that was Moth Tellerae. He remembered, once again, the lack of his sweater, and shrugged. That would the excuse to see her again… he planned on finding her. Speaking of which… he still had to talk to Grandmother Lalloria about her. He rose, determined, and didn't notice that he ploughed right into another Guard.

"Goddess, Riéllé, I'm so sorry!" dismayed, he helped the girl up. He knew her fairly well. Riéllé was a strikingly beautiful Sidhe from Adonai City, extremely skilled in all that was hand-to-hand, or something along those lines. Her eyes and wings were a soft brown gazelle color, and some brown roots were showing at the base of her obligatory silver hair, which was currently pushed back with a leather band. She smiled at him kindly.

"It's no problem, Talon. What's the hurry?"

"Oh… I need to talk to Grandmother Lalloria, is all," he said sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck.

"Who's this?" Ach, damn, she had seen the drawing. "You draw very well… She's cute, but seems like a child. Is this your sister?"

"Ah, no… She seems to be some sort of runaway I met on my patrol yesterday. Fierce as a sword point, that one. I was trying to figure out who she was," he admitted to her.

Riéllé's doe eyes flashed with something that resembled jealousy, but it was gone so fast the fairy Guard was sure he had imagined it. She put a well-manicured hand on his arm, currently bare and showing his warrior tattoos. She traced them with one finger as she murmured to him,

"Don't worry about some rogue enfant, Talon, think more of the things on hand…" She raised a hand to trace the outline of his lips, then smiled impishly and left.

He stood in silence for a minute after she left.

"What the hell was that?"

He approached the chamber of Grandmother Lalloria, the wisest of the race. She was an old fairy guard, so old her hair had turned silver of it's own course. She could still fight, but age had taken its' toll and she was no longer the youthful daredevil she once was. It was she who kept the contacts with all the other villages and towns of the province. He explained his situation to her.

"Ah, yes, the Tellerae's daughter! She's a feisty one. Both her parents are deceased, although they used to be the best fighters of the guard. Yes, the girl is useful: she's Ceya'Tar's contact for two different guilds, marvellous no?"

Each village had a contact in one of the human's legal guilds, as an act of treaty between the two peoples.

"And what guilds is she in, Grandmother? Not to pry, that is."

"Moth Tellerae, lets see… ah yes. Terribly skilled that one. Currently holds a valuable place in both the Mages Guild and the Dark Brotherhood."


	8. Super Ninja Assassination Duo

**A.N/ I really have no excuse for not uploading... School has been loading us with crap to read and book reports to follow, so I might be long for the next while. The new Skyrim trailer is out (and has been for a while -.-") and I'm so excited! One quote I liked was '11.11.11 is the day my social life ends'. Cheers to that!**

**There isn't much dialouge in this one, so sorry about that. I'll update Little French Lady and The Audience's Angel, and after that I promise I'll work harder on PitN!**

**Only own some characters in this! Cheers!  
**

Chapter 7: Super Ninja Assassination Duo

Everyone had greeted the Speaker warmly and they were currently seated around one of the dining tables. Deadria had (somewhat) calmed down and was sitting graciously, although she stayed as far from the vampire as possible. The fairy was sitting on Lucien's head, playing with his hair. Used to it, he didn't react, which shocked the ever-formal Deadria. After some trivial niceties between the Sanctuary members, including Antoinetta-Marie practically drooling on Lachance, they moved onto more important matters – the contract.

Their victim was a Dunmer named Valen Dreth, currently rotting in the Imperial Prison. Their mission was to sneak in via an underground passage, kill him, and get out – the whole thing without touching a single guard. Deadria nodded thoughtfully, carefully avoiding the dirty glances that Moth was giving her. Gone now was the cutesy fairy – in her place, a cranky killer. Lucien, Vicente and Ocheeva departed to the vampire's quarters to speak of the traitor matter. Then Moth had to explain to Deadria, who didn't stay in the Sanctuary much, the story of the traitor who was killing off Brotherhood members.

The rest of the Sanctuary members dispersed, heading either to train or to rest. Deadria started to prepare for the contract, pulling out maps and schematics of the Imperial Prison, mumbling to herself as she found nothing to do with any underground passage. The Sidhe was sitting cross-legged on her nightstand-bed, a pink glow surrounding her. Even with her eyes closed, she was smirking, seemingly mocking Deadria's attempts.

"You know, if you want to find the way in, ask Netta," she said, her voice calm. "She's escaped from the prison a couple of times."

"A-And… why didn't you mention this sooner?"

"You didn't ask."

The Mystic Elf scowled and got up to find the Breton, who was happy to draw her a (crude, but Deadria didn't tell her that) map of the sewers.

"You see, the sewers let out here," she said, marking a spot outside the imperial city with an X. "And then you need to go through here… there are some gates you need to open at one point, I think they're here. Then there's a path up here that leads to the Imperial Sanctum and then you follow that to the Subterrane. Then you follow through a passage in a wall and you should end up in the cell opposite!" Antoinetta declared happily, looking at her drawing proudly. Then she waved and left to continue her training.

"Her map looks like something a toddler would draw," mused Moth as she hovered over Deadria's shoulder. The elf was memorizing the routes they would take, calculating how long the trip would be, planning what they would bring.

"I still don't see why you bother with all of this planning stuff," she continued, annoyed. "I mean, we'll get there when we get there!"

Deadria lifter her head, her ebony locks veiling her face.

"Well, Miss, we need to be precise, so that everything will go perfectly."

"I've done all of my missions perfectly before, and I never do this."

Deadria lowered her head and kept on writing, her dark hair shielding what she wrote. Moth scowled and floated off.

D-Day. Deadria and Moth smiled and waved to the other Sanctuary members as they departed through the abandoned house. Moth was giving her partner the cold shoulder, being particularly kind to the others but totally ignoring her, still annoyed at being saddled with someone who, in her point of view, would only slow her down. For the fairy, the idea was simple – fly in, kill, fly out. Dragging a big person around would end in disaster.

Deadria, on the other hand, thought of things differently. She found the child – despite Moth being older than her, she was a child in Deadria's eyes – horribly immature and spoiled. This opinion was shown to be correct as the fairy purposely ignored her, choosing instead to fly several feet ahead of Deadria and her mare, sometimes glancing over her shoulder to shoot the Elf a dirty look. What happened to that cutesy little girl from before? Now she was more like a grumpy old man.

After a day of riding (accompanied with Moth doubling back to complain that they were going too slow, and Deadria arguing that the horse needed some rest and couldn't run the whole way there) Deadria stabled her horse at the Imperial City and booked a room at the Wawnet Inn, Moth too sullen to bother hiding. Nerussa, the publican, was a kind Altmer lady who was delighted to spot the fairy and started chattering to her about magicka. Moth smiled and nodded along with her, all the while wondering what this woman was doing as an innkeeper if she was so fond of the arcane arts.

It was quite late in the night, so the tavern was almost empty. A lone Legioner was sitting in the corner sipping ale, shooting dirty looks at the Sidhe. Used to such spite from humans, Moth ignored him; choosing instead to sip from a bottle she produced from her pack and watch Nerussa and Deadria speak. The two elves were deep in an eloquent conversation, which surprised the fairy – Deadria seemed more of the quiet type. She leaned in to listen and found that the two were talking about wine. She rolled her eyes. 'Alcoholic big people,' she thought scornfully.

"I happen to collect rare wines," Nerussa was boasting. "I'm currently searching for a rare type – Shadowbanish Wine. Very rare -" she watched with eyes as wide as saucers as Deadria pulled a dusty bottle from her pack. "Gods above! That's it! Goodness, what I wouldn't give for about 5 more of those… Hey, you seem to be the adventuring type. If you can find me 5 more of those I'll pay you well." She continued to rant on about some old legion rubbish and Moth stopped listening.

Upstairs, the duo agreed to wake up before dawn and complete the contract in the early hours of the morning, preferably around 3 or 4. A time where there wouldn't be any guards in front of the cell, and the ones on duty would be sleeping on their feet. Deadria prepared for bed, washing her face and neck vigorously before putting on some simple clothes. She turned around and saw Moth applying some green mixture to her teeth.

"What is that?" she asked, revolted.

"Toothpaste." The fairy rubbed her teeth with her finger, so her words were somewhat mangled. "It's a paste made from mint to clean teeth." She took a draught of water from her bottle, swished it around her mouth and spat it out the open window. "See?" She grinned up mischievously with somewhat whiter teeth. Hmm.

The two fell asleep quickly, Moth sitting in a sponge on the nightstand with Deadria moving around in her sleep, more often than not hitting the walls with her fists and her feet.

Deadria woke at about 2, according to her watch. She rose and pulled on her shrouded armour, tying her long black hair into a plait and raising her hood. Her silver claymore was strapped to her back, the buckles and straps in place. She turned around to wake the fairy, to find her partner wasn't there. She glanced around the room, trying not to panic, thinking back to the imperial legioner with the cruel face from before. The elf was just about to call out Moth's name when the air shimmered in front of her and a veil of invisibility was lifted, revealing the little fairy. Her hair was held back out of her face by a dark leather band, with a little veil attached that covered the back of her bright pink hair. She was wearing her own shrouded armour, but in much smaller. A tiny knife was strapped to her waist.

"We going to get going, or what?" She asked, somewhat impatiently.

Deadria nodded and opened the window. She jumped out, landing on her feet and rolling to lessen the shock. Moth followed, stopping long enough to close the window behind her.

"Damn, how many guards are there?" Moth wondered.

"Shh!" Deadria hissed back at her, observing the path that was littered with guards. The duo had managed to open the grate into the sewers (ick) and get through them into the Subterrane, only to find that there were guards everywhere. Moth had racked her brains to find a spell that would help, but the best she could cast without collapsing was a 68% chameleon spell. The fairy was sitting on Deadria's neck, hidden in her hood – her wing dust was too visible in this dim light. The elf moved as quietly as a shadow, her movements fluid as she skipped from one dark corner to the next, waiting patiently for the guard to make a move before darting past. Moth was impressed – Deadria was one notch closer to earning the fairy's respect.

She continued on her path until she rose into a cell that was too familiar for comfort. Her back pressed against the wall, she waited for the guard chatting with Dreth to move on before she gently pushed the cell door open, cringing when it creaked. She paused for a moment – no running footsteps coming this way, she was safe for now. The Elf stepped delicately into the hallway and peered into the cell opposite. Valen Dreth was sleeping, murmuring swear words and things highly inappropriate in his slumber. Moth darted out from the hood and her hand glowed white as she pressed it against the lock. _Click, click, click._ The door swung open and Deadria entered, glanced at Moth, and unsheathed her claymore.

"You were good in there. Your kill," Moth whispered to her.

Deadria nodded and brought her sword down.

"Bravo, sisters! You snuck into the Imperial Prison, killed Dreth and got out, the whole thing without touching a single guard. Haha, I wish I could be there to see the Prison Warden's face!" Vicente crooned as he observed the two before him. "So, as a reward, you have earned the Scales of Pitiless Justice. Return soon, and you'll probably have a new contract."

"Thank you, Brother," Deadria smiled, taking the scales. "We're off to Fort Irony, I owe someone a favour I need to take care of… We'll return soon though. Tell everyone we say hello!"

The pair, packs on their backs, waved and once again left the Sanctuary.

"So, off to go and find some wine," mused Moth. "Ah well – Fort equals stuff to kill, and cheers to that!" she cheered from her perch on the horse's head. Deadria smiled.

"Aye, here's to that," she chuckled.


End file.
